


The Grass is Always Greener (in a Garden Centre)

by lachatblanche



Series: Of Cupcakes and Broccoli Patches [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Broccoli, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles You Slut, Cupcakes, M/M, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven and Emma meet every week to drink coffee and gossip about Charles.</p>
<p>(The coffee is optional)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grass is Always Greener (in a Garden Centre)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you asked for it so here it is. I don’t know what it is exactly (apart from being cracky and massively self-indulgent) but here you are. 
> 
> It probably makes even less sense than the first one. Sorry.
> 
> Also, everyone seems to have turned out kind of slutty and possibly a little bit crazy. 
> 
> Again – sorry.

Raven met Emma on a Tuesday in a café that was not Moira’s. 

Strictly speaking, Emma was Charles’s friend – Charles’s _best_ friend, in all probability, if one excluded Raven from the mix – but Raven had long lived under the ‘what’s yours is mine’ tenet of sibling-ship and so had promptly (and nearly forcibly) enfolded Emma into her own circle of friends, much to both Charles and Emma’s mutual bemusement. 

Luckily for her, Emma had quickly decided that she liked Raven’s style and had thus graciously deigned to extend the hand of friendship towards her with relatively little fuss or strain. The two of them had then proceeded to bond over the hopeless mess that was the life of Charles Xavier and from that moment on, as far as Raven was concerned, the two of them were friends for life. (Emma had looked singularly unimpressed when Raven had declared as such after one or two or five piña coladas one night but she hadn’t contradicted her so Raven was going to take that as a win.) 

It had definitely helped that the two of them had shared a very definite sense of satisfaction at the look of consternation that had crossed Charles’s face at the news that his sister and his best friend were now in cahoots together. 

(And they were _totally_ in cahoots together, Raven was certain of it. She wasn’t particularly sure what they were in cahoots about – it was probably something to do with Charles and their mutual dislike of his fuddy-duddy granddad-clothes – but they were definitely in cahoots about _something_. In any case, they made one heck of the badass team. Emma brought the brains, the schemes and the looks to the table and Raven brought the … enthusiasm. A heck of a _lot_ of enthusiasm. And cupcakes. Sometimes she brought cupcakes as well. Unless they met on a Friday in which case she brought éclairs. Raven fucking loved éclairs. Not as much as cupcakes, obviously, but – still. Éclairs were bloody scrumptious.)

As was usual for them, their meeting that day consisted mainly of Raven giving an impassioned monologue about something that she considered to be either _totally awesome_ or _really super-important_ , and pausing only to listen to Emma’s occasional interjections from time to time. This particular afternoon saw Raven begin by ranting about her avowed hatred for pigeons (‘I swear to god, they’re out to _get_ me, there was this one huge fucking bird that just kept _looking_ at me, I’m serious!’) before going on to proudly tell Emma about her awesome matchmaking skills and her practically _genius_ idea of bringing Charles and Moira together.

‘They’re going to be great together,’ Raven said enthusiastically, manic glee radiating from her face. ‘You’ll see. I’ll be telling this story at their wedding. I can see it now – a fancy-ass cake, Moira in a white dress, Charles in something that’s not a cardigan … I’ll be the maid of honour, obviously. Or the best man. Best woman. Best _something_. You just wait. This is going to happen and it will be _brilliant_.’

Emma, who had remained mostly silent up until now, calmly sipped her coffee and regarded Raven with an even expression. ‘Sure about that, are you?’ she asked idly, sounding only vaguely interested.

Raven jerked up in her seat, nearly whacking her knee against the table in her haste. ‘Absolutely!’ she declared, lifting her chin resolutely. ‘I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life. I’ve even got the numbers of two local churches and a little chapel in Vegas ready just in case.’ Sure, it might be a little premature to plan for a wedding so early on in what Raven was sure was the start of a beautiful relationship but then it always paid to be prepared. Two and a half years as a Girl Scout had taught her that much at least.

Emma wrinkled her nose at the mention of Vegas but miraculously chose not to comment on it. Instead she leant back in her seat and gave Raven a cool look. ‘That’s all very nice, sugar,’ she said calmly, annoyingly doing nothing to hide the scepticism in her tone, ‘but you _do_ remember saying the exact same thing about Steve way back when, right?’

Raven immediately scowled. ‘That was different,’ she snapped, defensive. ‘Steve was all sweet and harmless-looking and … _Steve_ -like. He looked like _exactly_ the type to settle down and get married and allow me to be the best-man-maid-of-honour-person at the wedding.’ She had been almost as disappointed as Charles when _that_ had all gone down the drain: she really had been looking forward to being a best-man-maid-of-honour-hybrid-of-awesomeness. She had a dress picked out and everything. ‘How was _I_ supposed to know that he was actually a severely-repressed asshole who had a thing for bad-boy billionaire types?’

Emma rolled her eyes at Raven’s whiny tone but her mouth was quirked upwards in amusement. ‘How indeed,’ she murmured, stirring her coffee with a teaspoon. ‘How are Steve and Tony anyway?’

Raven muttered under her breath before tossing her head with a loud sniff. ‘How do you think?’ she said grumpily. ‘Still the same idiots as always.’

‘Ah,’ Emma nodded in understanding. ‘Still going at it like rabbits, then.’

Raven barely had time to blink before her imagination seized onto the image and promptly took over in glorious high-definition and surround-sound, shorting out her brain for a few sweet and delicious seconds. Coming out of her daze, she took a moment to check that she wasn’t actually drooling before squirming awkwardly in her seat and avoiding Emma’s eye, her cheeks slightly pink.

She had nothing to be embarrassed about, she told herself sternly. It was perfectly natural to fantasise about people like that. It wasn’t as if it were _her_ fault that both the men in question were excruciatingly hot specimens of humanity that she wouldn’t hesitate to jump in a second should she be given the chance. 

Especially Tony. She’d definitely shag Tony. Tony was awesome.

It was probably the worst kept secret in the world that Raven had had a stupidly embarrassing crush on Tony ever since she had been old enough to figure out what a crush was. She had gazed at him with starry eyes and had written their names out in the backs of school notebooks and had run from the room in embarrassment whenever he had walked in (behaviours that had, somewhat embarrassingly, lasted well into her late teens, if she remembered correctly. Which she did.)

Not that Tony had ever noticed, of course. He had always – much to her intense irritation – looked on her as something of a younger sister and had spent all his time locked away in his garage-turned-laboratory with Charles, doing boring nerdy things like ‘collecting data’ or building robots out of a couple of sheets of metal and a few dozen bolts and screws. She couldn’t even remember a time when Tony had ever flirted with her … except perhaps for that one time, on her sixteenth birthday (which she was almost completely certain that she _hadn’t_ hallucinated) when, after giving her several appreciative glances from across the room, he had crossed the floor and said something that was either very, very odd (and knowing Tony this could very well have been the case) or otherwise something very, very filthy (which was equally as likely). 

Naturally, she chose to believe the latter option. It made for a much better anecdote than the first.

Raven glanced over at Emma. ‘You know,’ she said casually, taking a long sip of her latte and keeping her eyes lowered, ‘I almost slept with Tony once.’ She probably shouldn’t sound so thrilled about it, she thought idly. Especially in front of Emma, who – next to Charles – was one of the people who would be the least impressed by the news. 

Raven sighed. It wasn’t her fault that everyone else seemed to find the fact that she had almost slept with Tony Stark so bloody impressive … Although, now she thought about it, maybe they were more impressed by the fact that she _hadn’t_ slept with Tony rather than the fact that she almost _had_.

Emma seemed to pick up on this. ‘ _Almost?_ ’ she questioned, sounding almost curious.

‘Yeah,’ Raven sighed, feeling rather gratified by the interest. ‘He offered.’

Emma snorted. ‘I bet he did,’ she said dryly. She raised her own drink and nodded at Raven. ‘Join the club with the rest of us, sugar.’

Raven pouted. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ she said insistently. ‘He wasn’t just _saying_ it. He actually _meant_ it.’ At least, she thought he had. She hadn’t really had the chance to find out, what with Charles coming out of nowhere and interrupting what had otherwise promised to be a very interesting conversation. The selfish bastard.

Emma gave a short laugh. ‘He always does,’ she said, almost fondly. She then gave Raven a look. ‘I hope he at least waited until you were sixteen.’

‘Oh, he did,’ Raven said quickly.

‘Hmm,’ Emma eyed her for a moment before letting out a sniff. ‘Well, in any case, it’s not something I’d be proud of, sugar.’

Raven’s shoulders slumped. ‘Yeah,’ she sighed, grimacing slightly. ‘Charles wasn’t too pleased about it either. His eyes went all narrow and his lips went all pouty, like a puffer-fish.’ She paused. ‘I think he and Tony had a bit of a bust-up after that. Charles came back looking all roughed-up and Tony – well,’ she sighed despondently, ‘Tony never hit on me again.’ Which had sucked big time and Raven had almost gone crying into her pillow at the loss before she had remembered that she wasn’t actually a lovelorn heroine in a tragic romance and that Tony definitely was _not_ the tortured hero type and after that everything had been as right as rain again.

Emma was staring at her. ‘ _That’s_ what you think happened?’ she asked blankly.

Raven frowned. ‘Well – yeah,’ she said, puzzled. ‘What else could have happened?’

Emma stared at her for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. ‘Oh sugar,’ she laughed. ‘Darling, you are just _too_ precious.’

Raven pouted. She hated people laughing at her. She especially hated Emma laughing at her. Never mind that barely a single day went by without that happening. ‘What?’ she demanded, narrowing her eyes at Emma. ‘What is it? What am I missing?’

Emma raised an eyebrow and smirked. ‘Sugar, the reason that you remain as yet unmolested by Tony’s grubby, wandering little hands is that Charles … _persuaded_ Tony to never hit on you again. Ever.’

Raven’s eyes widened. ‘So Charles _did_ fight Tony that night!’ she breathed. She had never had someone fight for her honour before. Sure, she hadn’t exactly imagined it to be her dorky older brother doing the fighting at the time but – what the hell – she wasn’t picky. She would take what she got.

Emma, however, snorted at her words. ‘I’d hardly call what those two did together _fighting_ ,’ she drawled, looking unfairly amused.

It took Raven a moment to actually get it. Then her face creased up in horror. ‘Oh fucking _gross_!’ she swore, recoiling. ‘He – he _slept_ with Tony so that Tony wouldn’t sleep with me?’

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing _quite_ so vulgar, my dear,’ she said dryly. She met Raven’s eyes. ‘Charles merely threatened to _stop_ sleeping with Tony if he ever hit on you again.’ She smirked at the look on Raven’s face. ‘And, as you can see, it worked really quite well.’ When Raven’s expression still did not change Emma sighed. ‘Raven – Charles and Tony had been sleeping together for years. Literal _years_. How you managed to miss that is entirely incomprehensible to me. The two of them combined don’t have a single subtle bone in their bodies.’

Raven’s mind quickly came up with a half-hearted joke about _someone_ having a bone in their body but that was just a knee-jerk reaction to protect her mind against the solid kick in the teeth that she had just received. Suddenly there were a _lot_ of things that made so much more sense. Like why Tony had always waggled his eyebrows like a pervy old man when inviting Charles down to his lab. Raven had always wondered why he had done that but now she finally knew: apparently nails and bolts weren’t the only things that had been screwed in Tony’s lab.

‘Fuck,’ she said slowly. ‘I think I hate my brother.’ It was one thing for her to know her brother’s sexual history; it was quite another thing to learn that her brother had been screwing the secret object of a number of her dirty fantasies since the age of fifteen.

Emma said nothing.

Raven pouted at her. ‘It’s just not _fair_!’ she whined. ‘Why does _he_ always get the stupidly hot ones?’ It was a travesty, that’s what it was. Raven deserved to fall into bed with stupidly hot men as well. Or women. Hell, stupidly hot _anyone_ , she wasn’t picky. She couldn’t be, what with having Charles hanging around her like a ridiculously adorable bat and attracting hot people to him like a – like a hot people magnet. 

Raven scowled. Honestly, being related to Charles was enough to give a girl an inferiority complex.

Emma smirked. ‘I hope you are including me in that tally of hot people,’ she drawled, gazing at Raven through lidded eyes.

Raven glared at her. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Emma and Charles had had an ‘arrangement’ between them for a few years when they had been at university. As far as Raven knew, that was how they had started out: they had met and flirted and started shagging … and had then just kept on shagging till they had realised that they actually liked each other. The sex had petered out after that – not completely, judging by the noises that still came out of Charles’s room every time that Emma decided to stay over after a casual ‘friendly dinner’ – but they now considered their friendship to be much more important than sex, regardless of how utterly mind-blowing it might have been.

Something occurred to Raven then. ‘Hold on,’ she said slowly, ‘Charles has slept with _you_ and he’s slept with Tony and I _know_ he’s slept with Logan no matter how much he tries to deny it …’ She paused. ‘Christ, does my brother sleep with _all_ his friends?’

Emma smirked. ‘It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?’ she said airily, before pausing. ‘Well – apart from Moira, that is,’ she amended, a devilish gleam in her eye.

‘ _That_ he’ll get around to,’ Raven insisted, undeterred. She was certain he would. He just had to. He would shag her and they would date and then Charles would have a nice stable girlfriend and Raven would have free cupcakes for life. It was win-win for everyone.

‘Hmm,’ Emma’s response was non-committal.

‘They’re already close, you know,’ Raven ignored Emma, something that was admittedly easier said than done. ‘They’re probably already dating. I mean – it’s not official or anything – but still.’

‘Is that right?’ Emma asked, arching an eyebrow. 

‘Trust me,’ Raven said with an exaggerated nod and a wink. ‘Raven _knows_.’

‘Right,’ Emma drawled. ‘Of course she does. Just like Raven _knows_ that Charles and Moira are soul-mates and are fated to fall in love and get married and have a whole host of sickeningly cute little Charles-babies.’

‘They may as well be,’ Raven sniffed, momentarily distracted by the sheer _cuteness_ of a hypothetical little Charles-baby. ‘And they _will_ if I have anything to with it.’

Emma raised an eyebrow but Raven was fluent in Eyebrow so she knew what Emma was really trying to say was _Oh really?_

‘ _Yes_ , really. Moira’s _good_ for Charles,’ she said earnestly, stirring the now-cold remnants of her latte vigorously. ‘She’s not a psychopath for one thing. And she’s fun and smart and doesn’t let Charles get away with things just because he’s as cute as a basket of kittens. She’s a good influence on him. She’s even got him into eating his vegetables, for crying out loud. I’ve honestly never seen him eat so healthily.’

Emma’s eyebrows had risen up at that. ‘Huh,’ she said, ‘So you’re telling me that a woman who makes scones and cupcakes for a living is encouraging Charles to eat healthier?’

‘Well … yes,’ Raven said slowly, narrowing her eyes at Emma. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

Emma gave an elegant shrug. ‘Absolutely nothing,’ she said carelessly. A moment later, ‘So you think Moira and Charles are definitely together, then?’

Raven nodded. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Charles goes around there often enough.’ Her eyes glazed over slightly. ‘He always brings back cupcakes,’ she said dreamily.

Emma’s expression had turned suddenly sly. ‘Always?’ she repeated.

‘Yup,’ Raven smiled. ‘Moira must really be into him, the way she keeps loading him up with them.’

‘I thought she was trying to get him to eat healthier?’ Emma murmured, regarding her nails curiously.

Raven paused. ‘Well. Yeah – I guess that’s to balance out the cupcakes,’ she said with a slight frown.

‘Of course it is,’ Emma soothed.

‘Right.’

‘Yes.’

There was a moment of silence.

‘It _is_ strange, though,’ Emma said after a moment, causing Raven to look up sharply.

‘ _What_ is strange?’ Raven demanded, suspicious.

Emma shrugged. ‘It’s just that I am Charles’s closest friend,’ she said simply. ‘And I haven’t heard so much as a peep about Moira in the last couple of weeks.’

Raven was undeterred. ‘Maybe he wanted to keep it secret?’ she suggested, but Emma gave her a look.

‘Sugar, you and I both know what Charles is like when he’s in love,’ she said reprovingly. ‘He looks like a dizzy little puppy on roller-skates.’

‘He _always_ looks like a dizzy little puppy on roller-skates.’

‘True,’ Emma admitted, ‘But he tends to look even more sickeningly cute when he’s in love and I’m sorry, sweets, but he just doesn’t have that look about him.’ She paused. ‘At least,’ she said slowly, watching Raven carefully, ‘Not when we talk about _Moira_.’

Raven went completely still.

‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

Emma took a sip of her espresso. ‘Depends,’ she said.

Raven frowned. ‘On what?’ she demanded.

‘On what you think I am saying,’ Emma said calmly.

‘What do you think that I think you’re saying?’

Emma gave her an unimpressed look. ‘Guess,’ she said simply, before going back to her espresso.

Raven glared at her. Emma ignored her. For some reason she found it a great deal easier to ignore Raven than Raven found it to ignore Emma. 

It was at times like this that Raven wondered why she was so very keen on being friends with Emma. Sure, Emma was rich and gorgeous and possessed the kind of ultra-coolness that Raven could only achieve by sticking herself in a freezer for a couple of hours, but – honestly? – Raven would probably be better off making friends with a viper … Or a badger. Raven liked badgers, badgers were cool. They weren’t very friendly, sure, but they had lovely fur coats and teeny-tiny claws and shiny sharp teeth and … Raven paused before casting a subtle glance over at Emma. She frowned and then tilted her head and squinted. Emma didn’t particularly _look_ like a badger, but you never knew …

‘Badger,’ she tried it out cautiously.

Emma looked up at her and blinked.

‘Huh,’ she said, eyeing Raven carefully, ‘I guess that you really _weren’t_ thinking what I was thinking.’ Then: ‘Did you just call me a _badger_?’

Raven quickly shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I was just … thinking about them.’

Emma gave Raven an odd look before rolling her eyes. ‘Right. Whatever.’

‘Right,’ Raven said quickly. She bit her lip. ‘About Charles – you said that he didn’t act like a lovesick puppy around _Moira_.’ Emma nodded and Raven continued. ‘Which means … who _does_ he act like a lovesick puppy around?’

Emma shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue,’ she said.

‘What?’ Raven stared at her, scepticism clear in her eyes. ‘Oh come on. Sure you do. If there’s something to be known then you know it. You’re _Emma Frost_. You know _everything_.’ Raven wasn’t even exaggerating. ‘You probably know what colour pants Charles is wearing right now, don’t try and tell me that you don’t know who his apparently secret shag-muffin is.’

‘Shag. Muffin,’ Emma repeated flatly, her voice dripping with derision.

Raven shrugged, determinedly squashing down the treacherous blood vessels in her cheeks. ‘Well, I _could_ have gone for nookie-buddy, but I thought that would be a bit much.’

‘ _Did_ you?’ Emma’s tone was dry. ‘You surprise me. In any case,’ she straightened in her chair, ‘It hardly matters. This is just pure speculation, after all. We don’t actually know anything.’

‘But you suspect,’ Raven said quickly.

‘But I suspect,’ Emma agreed, nodding.

Raven sighed, wishing that she didn’t have so much faith in Emma’s innate ability to just _know_ things. ‘That’s good enough for me,’ she said grimly, trying not to feel too put-out. Charles and Moira were _perfect_ together. Why couldn’t Charles just shag her and get on with it?

‘Why can’t Charles just shag Moira and get on with it?’ she grumbled, crossing her arms and glaring at the table.

Emma looked amused. ‘I don’t know if that’s quite how it works, sugar. Besides,’ she added. ‘It’s still only a guess. We can’t actually be sure that Charles is sleeping with _anyone_ right now.’

_Ha!_ Raven thought.

‘Ha!’ she said, letting out a thoroughly derisive snort. ‘May I remind you that this is _Charles_ we are talking about? Of _course_ he’s sleeping with someone. He’s _always_ sleeping with someone.’

‘Just not Moira.’

‘Just not – oh come on,’ Raven whined, crossing her arms. ‘He _has_ to be shagging Moira. Or at least _dating_ her. I mean – he goes to her café almost every single day! Why would he do that if it wasn’t to see her?’

Emma was looking thoughtful. ‘He goes there everyday, you said?’ she murmured. Raven nodded. ‘And you know this for a fact?’

‘Yup,’ Raven nodded. ‘Absolutely. It’s like I said – Charles always brings back cupcakes back for me.’ Charles really was quite a decent brother at times, Raven decided. Not everyone was lucky enough to have a brother who was so willing to bring back cupcakes for their darling, devoted sisters. Charles was just thoughtful like that. Sure, he couldn’t have taken into account the fact that the daily offerings were beginning to play havoc with her waistline but Raven supposed that _some_ sacrifices had to be made to the Cupcake Gods in return for their delicious benevolence. Besides, it would be a terrible and ungrateful sister who would refuse such thoughtful and innocently-gifted presents from her brother. Charles would probably cry or something. Raven couldn’t do that to him. If Charles’s happiness depended upon her accepting his daily offering of half a dozen cupcakes then, by god, she would do it.

‘Yes, you did say,’ Emma sounded casual but she still had a quizzical expression on her face. ‘He brings you cupcakes.’ She paused. ‘Everyday?’

Raven smirked. ‘Yup,’ she said smugly. ‘Every single day.’

Emma’s eyes drifted down Raven’s body. ‘Yes,’ she said pointedly. ‘It shows.’

Raven scowled. _Fuck you_ , she thought, glaring at Emma. She was going to revoke her earlier statement: Emma was nothing like a badger. Badgers were cute and cuddly and whiskery and Emma was just a Class A bitch … albeit a Class A bitch with a gorgeous figure and a wardrobe to die for. 

Raven seriously needed new friends.

‘See if I ever share any of my cupcakes with you,’ she grumbled under her breath. She narrowed her eyes at Emma. ‘You were saying?’

‘Oh yes,’ Emma tore her eyes away from where she had been eyeing Raven thoughtfully. ‘I just thought that it was rather strange that Charles was suddenly bringing you cakes home everyday.’

‘He knows I like them,’ Raven said defensively. ‘And Moira probably gives them to him free.’ Or maybe not so free. Raven honestly didn’t really care. Charles could be prostituting himself for the cupcakes for all she knew but she would still accept them. She wouldn’t want all of Charles’s hard work to go waste, after all.

‘I suppose it’s possible,’ Emma said, considering. ‘But that’s not the _only_ explanation.’

‘It’s not?’ Raven stared at her, bemused, because what other possible explanation was there for _cupcakes_?

‘Yes,’ Emma was looking even more thoughtful now, ‘Charles may _look_ like a dizzy little puppy – he might even _act_ like a dizzy little puppy – but we both know that he’s smarter than most of the people in this café put together – myself excluded, of course.’

‘And me!’ Raven piped up indignantly but Emma just gave her an indulgent look.

‘Yes, dear,’ she said soothingly in a way that ironically did nothing to actually soothe Raven. ‘As you say. But the point is – Charles rarely does things without a reason.’

Raven nodded seriously. She was all too aware that Charles could be a sneaky bastard when he wanted to be.

‘It just seems a bit odd, is all,’ Emma continued, a small frown on her face. ‘He’s just been acting so strange lately – and not just in this. I _know_ Charles. I know him and I’m positive that there’s something that he’s not telling me.’

Raven shrugged. ‘So?’ she asked carelessly. She couldn’t bring herself to feel any particularly sympathy for Emma’s complaint that Charles had been keeping his cards close to his chest; not now that she had found out that her brother had secretly been sleeping with one of his best friends – and her secret crush – for _years_ without ever actually bothering to tell her about it. Raven wasn’t one to hold a grudge but … actually yes, she was.

‘ _So_ ,’ Emma stressed the word, ‘Charles always tells me _everything_. Even when he doesn’t want to. He simply can’t help himself. That’s how we found out about that bitch Lilandra, remember?’ Oh yes, Raven remembered. ‘This time, though …’ Emma’s voice trailed off and she sighed. To Raven’s surprise she actually looked rather doleful.

‘There there,’ she said lamely, not entirely sure what to do in the face of an upset Emma. ‘He hasn’t said anything to me either, if that helps.’

Judging by the disdainful look on Emma’s face, it didn’t. 

‘I just wish I knew what he’s up to,’ Emma murmured, frowning across the café with unseeing eyes, causing one of the customers in her eye-line to gulp and shift nervously in his seat. ‘He’s been behaving very oddly these past few weeks. Do you know,’ she suddenly straightened up and turned to face Raven with an almost bewildered look on her face, ‘That last week I offered to stay for the night, and he said no?’ She shook her head, her expression full of confusion. ‘That’s never happened before, not with anyone.’

Raven valiantly resisted the urge to dump the rest of her now-cold coffee over Emma’s head. ‘How devastating for you,’ she said flatly. Much to her annoyance, Emma didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm in her tone, even though Raven had laid it on really thick for her benefit.

‘Yes,’ Emma said, looking distracted. ‘Like I said – his behaviour’s been odd lately. Very odd, in fact. I mean – of course it makes sense now that you’ve said that Moira’s got him on some sort of health-kick – but just the other day he started waxing lyrical about _vegetables_ of all things and I had to sit there and listen to him blather on for hours and hours without end because he …’

Emma continued to rant on but Raven had stopped listening. She had frozen midway through Emma’s tirade, a sense of foreboding stirring deep inside her. She swallowed hard before turning again to Emma.

‘Vegetables?’ she croaked out.

‘Yes,’ Emma said with feeling, looking as if the very word offended her. ‘ _Vegetables_. I mean, I am used to him being a bore about DNA and genome sequencing but this is really too much.’

Raven fidgeted. ‘Was there any … _particular_ vegetable that he was talking about?’ she asked in a voice that was strangely higher than normal.

Emma paused and turned to her curiously. ‘As a matter of fact,’ she said slowly, watching Raven, ‘There was. For some reason Charles simply could not stop talking about _broccoli_.’

Raven’s blood went cold.

‘Oh no,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Oh hell no. That little _fucker_.’

Emma tilted her head curiously.

‘Charles,’ Raven explained through gritted teeth. ‘That tricksy little bastard. He’s been using cupcakes as a distraction. He’s been luring me into a false sense of security by stuffing me full of Moira’s stupidly delicious cupcakes when all this time he’s been sneaking around behind my back and shagging Hot Shark Guy all over the fucking broccoli patch! That little _bastard_!’

Emma digested this in silence. ‘… You do know that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, don’t you?’ she asked after a moment.

‘ _Makes no sense?_ ’ Raven sputtered. ‘Shark Guy!’ she spat, waving her arms wildly. ‘Broccoli patch. _Sex!_ How does that not make sense to you?’

‘I have no idea,’ Emma said dryly. ‘Now calm down and speak to me in full complex sentences, there’s a dear. Tell me: who is this shark man that you keep bellowing on about?’

‘Shark Guy,’ Raven corrected, voice full of feeling. ‘ _Hot_ Shark Guy. As in he’s hot and he’s a guy and he looks like a shark.’

‘Thus Hot Shark Guy.’

‘Thus Hot Shark Guy,’ Raven agreed, nodding, glad that Emma finally seemed to have caught on. She bit her lip. ‘Charles is into him.’

Emma nodded. ‘I suspected as much,’ she said coolly. ‘Why is that a problem?’

Raven stared at her. ‘Hello? Did you miss the part about him being a fucking _shark_?’

‘No,’ Emma said easily. ‘But I also didn’t miss the part about him being hot, either.’

Raven paused. Fair enough, she thought. The guy was pretty darn hot, after all. She would totally have shagged him, too … if he had shown absolutely any interest in her whatsoever. Bloody Charles.

‘I suppose he _was_ stupidly hot,’ she said grudgingly, glowering down at the table. ‘I mean sure, the guy _may_ be a mad axe murderer in the making and he _may_ go about kicking kittens in his spare time but yeah, he _is_ completely, ridiculously hot. Satisfied?’

‘Hmm,’ Emma appeared to think it over. She gave Raven a sideways glance. ‘Would you shag him?’ she asked curiously.

‘In a heartbeat,’ Raven answered without hesitation. ‘In _half_ a heartbeat. Hell, in a _fraction_ of a heartbeat. I’d so be there. With bells on.’ She paused. ‘With _anything_ on, really. Guy looks kinky.’

Emma looked intrigued.

‘Yeah,’ Raven said, perking up at the interest. She glanced around theatrically before leaning forward and urging Emma closer. Emma rolled her eyes but obliged. ‘He has a broccoli patch,’ Raven whispered, eyeing Emma meaningfully before drawing away.

Emma stared at her. ‘What?’ she said blankly.

‘I said,’ Raven hissed, leaning forward again. ‘He has a _broccoli patch_.’ She gave Emma another meaningful look. It made her look like she had something stuck in her eye.

Emma eyed her warily. ‘If that’s supposed to be some sort of innuendo then I don’t want to know,’ she said after a moment.

Raven beamed. ‘That’s exactly what _I_ said!’ she said triumphantly, feeling validated.

Emma just stared at her for a moment. ‘You’re so weird,’ she muttered, shaking her head. Then, a little under her breath, ‘I need new friends.’

‘No, see,’ Raven shook her head and moved forward, grasping Emma by the arm. ‘You’re not getting it. The guy has a broccoli patch!’ She paused. ‘He wants to _shag Charles in the broccoli patch_!’

Emma was nonplussed. ‘So?’ At Raven’s stricken look she rolled her eyes. ‘Oh come on, sugar, you and I both know that Charles has shagged people in worse places than a broccoli patch. He’s shagged _me_ in worse places than a broccoli patch. Did I ever tell you about the time-’

‘You’re not taking this _seriously_ ,’ Raven whined, cutting Emma off before she could get started on what promised to be a long, sisterly-innocence-killing anecdote about she and Charles having sex. Raven had heard _way_ too many of those already, thank you very much. Honestly, she knew far too much about her brother’s sex life for it to be healthy. Maybe it was time for her to invest in a therapist. It wasn’t a bad idea, she realised. At least _someone_ would actually listen to her then. ‘This is _serious_! My brother’s shagging a broccoli-obsessed hot garden-centre guy who may or may not be a serial killer and who looks at my brother like he wants to _eat_ him!’

‘Hold on,’ Emma stared at Raven and for a moment Raven actually lived in hope that Emma had finally got it. Unfortunately for her, Emma seemed to have fixated on the wrong thing. ‘Did you say _garden centre_? Do you mean to tell me that Charles is shacking up with a _gardener_?’

Raven glared at her. ‘ _That’s_ what you pick up on?’ she demanded. ‘I tell you that this guy could be a serial killer and that he has a suspicious obsession with broccoli and you pick up on the fact that he likes _gardening_?’ Raven sent Emma a look of disgust. ‘Christ, you are such a _snob_.’

Emma’s smirk was devilish. ‘Unlike Charles,’ she murmured, her eyes glinting with barely-suppressed mirth. ‘I’ll bet that he has no problem getting – what’s the phrase – _down and dirty_ in the garden centre.’

_Memo to self_ , Raven mentally noted even as she gritted her teeth and desperately counted to twenty in her head. _Get new friends. Immediately._

‘I hope you won’t mind me _digging_ , Raven darling,’ Emma purred, ‘But you really must give me all the _dirt_ on how they met …’

_And a therapist_ , Raven added fervently. _New friends and a therapist. Definitely._ If there was any sign that therapy was needed then it was Emma Frost making gardening puns. Unless that was a sign of the oncoming apocalypse, of course – and Raven wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it was.

‘In all seriousness,’ Emma said then, her smile fading slightly, ‘I have to admit that I _am_ surprised at Charles. I know that he’s never had the highest of standards – Wade was adequate proof of that-’ they both shuddered ‘-but really, a _gardener_?’

‘He’s not _really_ a gardener,’ Raven said reluctantly, feeling compelled to say something out of respect for the man’s hotness. ‘He works in a garden centre – he’s in charge of vegetables or something. From what I can tell Charles ran into him there and started stalking him.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And – just for the record – Charles is a fucking useless stalker. The guy was probably on to him within two seconds of Charles trying to stalk him.’ And he had probably enjoyed it too, Raven thought gloomily, remembering the predatory look in Hot Guy’s eyes. God knows he was the kind to enjoy weird shit like that, what with his serial-killer smile and his fucking creepy obsession with broccoli. 

‘Yes, well,’ Emma made a vague gesture, ‘Charles was always a better fit as a stalk _ee_ rather than a stalk _er_.’ She and Raven shared a meaningful glance at that.

Raven sighed. ‘Oh Charles,’ she said mournfully. ‘Why are you always a magnet for the nut-jobs?’ She paused and then turned a speculative look on Emma. ‘I don’t suppose that _you_ could do anything about that, could you?’

Emma raised her eyebrow. ‘Like what exactly?’ she asked coolly.

Raven shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, sounding almost as if she was surprised to have been asked. ‘Just – you know. Emma stuff.’

Emma let out an actual snort at that. ‘Sugar,’ she drawled, ‘Flattered as I am that you seem to think me capable of fixing everything wrong with the universe, I seriously doubt that there is a single person on the planet – myself included – that could make Charles less attractive to the more undesirable members of the human race.’

Raven could not help being slightly disappointed about that – secretly, somewhere deep down, she still believed that Emma possessed amazing magical powers that enabled her to do whatever the fuck she wanted because otherwise the thought of a mere mortal possessing that much _Emma_ -ness was too scary to contemplate.

‘Still,’ Raven persisted, still unwilling to believe that there was anything that Emma fucking Frost could not achieve, ‘There must be _something_ that we can do to stop this car crash from happening. Can’t you – I don’t know-’ she waved her hands around impatiently, ‘-make Charles fall in love with you or something?’

Emma arched an eyebrow. ‘I thought you had your heart set on palming him off on Moira.’

Raven swallowed as visions of cupcakes passed before her eyes. With a great effort she steeled herself and turned away. One had to make sacrifices for the sake of the greater good, after all.

‘Moira would be ideal,’ Raven admitted. ‘But I guess you’d be okay, too.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ Emma’s voice was sarcastic. Then she shook her head. ‘But no – that won’t work. Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’, but I already tried that way back when: Charles, it appears, is irritatingly immune to my charms on that score.’ She paused before continuing in a surprisingly frank tone. ‘It’s one of the reasons why I like him so much.’

Raven rolled her eyes. ‘Well that’s just _dandy_ but it doesn’t bloody help us _now_ , does it?’ she grumbled.

Emma shrugged. ‘Guess there’s only one thing for it then,’ she turned to Raven with a smirk and Raven immediately felt a wave of foreboding, not dissimilar to the feelings experienced by someone who had just swallowed a couple of painkillers only to find out that they had actually picked up a bottle of laxatives instead. ‘Raven, sugar, it looks like _you’ll_ just have to go and seduce the gardener.’

Raven stared. She blinked. ‘What?’ she asked bemusedly.

Emma shrugged. ‘Your plan wasn’t _completely_ ridiculous,’ she said almost unwillingly. ‘Well – apart from the fact that you wanted Charles to fall in love with me.’ She let out a snort at that. ‘Your theory was sound enough, though. So if I can’t seduce Charles and you can’t seduce Charles – at least, I hope you can’t, for the obvious reasons – then we’ll just have to change direction.’ She nodded at Raven. ‘Which means that _you_ will have to go and seduce Charles’s handsome horticulturalist.’

Raven took a moment to scoff. Handsome horticulturalist? Hot-gardening-guy was a _way_ better name.

Then she remembered what it was that Emma was actually saying and she immediately shook her head.

‘No. No way,’ she said firmly. ‘I already tried that, remember? I didn’t even get a second look. And then Charles sashays by with the ridiculous face of his and the guy starts panting after him like a dog in heat.’ Raven tried not to sound _too_ bitter. The guy _was_ most likely a serial killer, after all.

‘You’ll just have to try again,’ Emma said carelessly, sounding completely unsympathetic.

But Raven just shook her head. That wasn’t going to happen. Nuh-uh. No way. It wasn’t that she _really_ objected to trying again – the guy _was_ superly-duperly hot, after all, serial-killer smile aside – it was just that (contrary to Emma’s belief) she did actually have a _bit_ of bloody dignity in her and there was just no way in hell that she was going to humiliate herself by coming onto a guy who clearly had zero interest in her lady parts and instead had a huge boner for her idiot of a brother.

She paused. 

Oh. Of course. That would explain so much.

Just because the guy had the sort of animal magnetism that made him impossibly attractive to anything that so much as breathed didn’t mean that he would feel the same way in return. Raven was forced to grimace at her stupidity. She’d been spending so much time with the likes of Charles and Emma and Tony that she’d almost forgotten that there were people in existence who wouldn’t shag anyone and anything with a heartbeat, regardless of gender.

The thought made her feel considerably better. She didn’t know why she had been so worried. Of _course_ she was still brilliant and attractive and super hot. She didn’t need the approval of a broccoli-obsessed deviant to tell her that. There was absolutely no reason for her to have fretted over the belief that she was unattractive and past her prime and ugly and doomed to a life of eternal spinsterhood …

She paused. Perhaps Charles had a point when he said that she could be a tiny bit melodramatic.

‘You know,’ Emma interrupted her reverie, running her finger around the edge of her coffee cup thoughtfully, ‘Maybe we should just let this one play out. Just sit back and see where it goes. You never know – they might actually be happy together.’

Raven scoffed at that. ‘Right,’ she said darkly. ‘Because that’s what _always_ happens. None of Charles’s darling little snuggle-pies _ever_ went on to reveal themselves to be psychotic, conniving _arseholes_.’

Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘Snuggle-pies?’ she asked, sounding disgusted. ‘Seriously, sugar, I pity the person who ends up on the receiving end of your pet-names, I really do.’

Raven sent her a dirty look. ‘Whatever. The point is – Charles needs our help. I know it looks like it’s all _Romeo and Juliet_ right now but just you wait – the guy’s going to end up being a serial killer, I just _know_ it.’

‘… You do know that _Romeo and Juliet_ is a tragedy, right?’

‘Emma!’ Raven snapped, irritated. ‘I’m getting the strange feeling that you’re not taking this as seriously as I am!’

Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘ _Really?_ ’ she asked in astonishment. ‘Me? Not taking this seriously? Perish the thought!’

‘This is _serious_ , Ems!’ Raven persisted, wincing when Emma shot her a glare at the use of the nickname. ‘Fine – _Emma_. But seriously – this is Charles’s well-being we’re talking about here! We can’t just give up!’

Emma shrugged. ‘Sorry, sugar, she said, ‘I just don’t know how comfortable I feel about interfering like that.’

Raven rolled her eyes. ‘Oh come off it, you’re _always_ interfering. You _love_ interfering. You were freaking _born_ to interfere.’

Emma considered this for a moment before giving a shrug and nodding. ‘I suppose you _do_ have a point,’ she admitted.

‘So you’re in?’ Raven asked enthusiastically.

Emma sighed. ‘I suppose you’d only keep irritating me if I didn’t say yes …’

‘Damn right.’

‘Then I guess I’m in,’ Emma said in a long-suffering sort of tone, although her lips twitched at the sight of Raven’s chair-confined happy dance. ‘But only as a sounding-board, nothing more. You do the legwork and I’ll help you plot. That is it. Which – take note – means that you will not be seeing me traipsing through a muddy vegetable garden in my Jimmy Choos at any point of this undertaking. Do you understand?’

‘Like crystal,’ Raven nodded happily, before frowning. That didn’t work. ‘Wait – can you say “is that clear” instead?’ she asked Emma hopefully.

Emma gave her a look. ‘No,’ she said flatly and turned away.

Raven pouted. ‘Killjoy,’ she muttered, glaring down at the table. She then suddenly glanced back up again, looking at Emma with worry. ‘I can still get the cupcakes though, right?’ she asked anxiously, twisting her napkin violently between her fingers. ‘We don’t need to say anything about them, do we?’

Emma frowned. ‘What cupcakes?’ she asked impatiently.

‘You know,’ Raven gave her a significant look. ‘Charles’s “Oh-look-I-really-did-go-to-see-Moira-and-no-I-am-not-shagging-scary-men-on-broccoli-patches” distraction cupcakes. Those ones. I mean – I can still have them, right?’ She gazed at Emma nervously.

‘Ah,’ Emma looked bemused. ‘Well. I suppose so. I really don’t see why not.’

Raven let out a sigh of relief. ‘Awesome,’ she said happily. ‘That’s good. That’s _great_. In fact, it’s-’

‘Awesome?’ Emma asked dryly.

‘Yeah,’ Raven beamed at her, grateful. ‘It’s _awesome_.’

‘Hmm,’ Emma eyed her speculatively. ‘You know, for some reason it just occurred to me that you have been spending far too much time with that Summers boy and his redheaded friend lately.’ She fixed Raven with a look. ‘I’m sorry to have to say this, darling, but – honestly? You need new friends.’

‘Yeah,’ Raven agreed, nodding sagely, ‘New friends. And a therapist.’

Emma blinked. ‘… Right,’ she said. Then, ‘Actually, that might be a good idea. God knows you need it.’

‘Because of the broccoli,’ Raven said wisely.

‘Because you’re _weird_ ,’ Emma corrected her with a roll of her eyes. ‘And because I refuse to be the only person who has to listen to the constant idiocy that comes out of your mouth at all times. Go get yourself that therapist, sugar. At least _they_ will be paid to listen to your nonsense.’

‘Ha,’ Raven scoffed. ‘You love my nonsense.’

‘Scratch the therapist,’ Emma said dryly. ‘You need a _psychiatrist_. You should ask Charles, maybe he can get you in touch with Wade’s guy.’

Raven shuddered. ‘Ugh, don’t even joke about that. I still have nightmares.’

‘You and me both, sugar,’ Emma agreed. ‘You and me both.’

The waiter then came and, after ordering more coffee, the two of them once again settled down and, leaving the business of his tragic love-life aside, started on their favourite pastime of bitching about Charles’s love of old granddad cardigans and his ridiculous obsession with tweed.

Nothing, after all, brought two people together better than the ability to bitch about someone that they both loved.

The broccoli problem could wait. Everything would be dealt with in good time.


End file.
